Blame it on My OCD
by King Avery
Summary: "Where are we going?" Inspector Gregory Lestrade is well used to the random kidnappings by now. Mycroft sends a car to pick up Greg but doesn't show for quite a while and Greg moves things around. Mystrade drabble with a little OCD and badly concealed intentions.


_**A/N: I don't own Sherlock or anything to do with it. Also this is not connected to my "Pause" series. I will be continuing that but this came to my mind first before I got super sick. This is my first Mystrade so be forgiving in the reviews. Thank you!**_

"Where are you taking me this time?"

Inspector Gregory Lestrade is well used to the random kidnappings by now; it just gets on his nerves when they come while he is busy. Today the girl, Anthea, stopped him as he left a cab in front of his ex wife's house. He knows better than to argue –which seems to relieve the PA. When Mycroft Holmes takes the time to get you picked up you go or you feel his wrath so all Greg can do is sigh and text his ex to reschedule as he slides into the car. About three minutes into the ride Greg gets very confused and repeats his question to the stoic figure tapping away at her blackberry. The direction they are heading is the complete opposite of the warehouses Mycroft used for these meetings.

"Something came up suddenly. You will be meeting Mr. Holmes at his home," she replies coolly, not even pausing in her incessant tapping.

"I'll be doing what now?" Greg stares at her incredulously; he must have heard wrong.

"Just don't move anything."

"Why can't I- Nevermind," Greg says on a sigh. He turns to stare out the window as the car rolls through the high end side of London.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Eventually they come to a stop in front of a sleek, modern house. A figure in one of the upstairs windows catches Greg's eye but disappears before he is out of the car. Anthea walks him to a spacious living room and tells him to wait there before disappearing again. The DI stands rather awkwardly for a few minutes; too afraid to touch anything in the well organized room. As time wears on without hearing from the home's owner he risks a little poking around.

The interior of the house greatly contrasts the sleek outer shell. There's probably a metaphor for the elder Holmes in that; but if so Greg isn't clever enough to pick it up in this moment. Where the outside was all harsh angles and slick surfaces the interior was much cozier, warm colors bathe the room in a comforting feel. The furniture is all overstuffed and luxurious. Even the scattered books, newspapers, and technology seemed inviting.

Curiously, Greg picks up a book lying on a table. _"Stagecraft and Statecraft: Advance and Media Events in Political Communication._ Well that's a mouthful."

He sets it aside and picks up another. " _The Art of War_. Not really surprising I guess." This gets set aside as well. Lestrade peeks at every corner of the room; picking things up and placing them randomly down to see the next thing. With still no sign of Mycroft he decides to sit in one of the cushy chairs to wait.

Finally the man of the hour comes downstairs talking as he reads something on his phone. "I do apologize for the delay; I endeavor to be prompt with my appointments. A crisis arose that required my urgent atte-"The man cuts off with a very sick look to him.

"You alright?" Greg stands quickly, worried for the man. For someone so controlled to look that sick he must be on the verge of collapse.

Sounding positively horrified Mycroft looks around the room, speaking softly "What have you done Gregory?"

"What do you mean?" Greg focuses on the question rather than the familiar use of his name; a first for Mr. Holmes to do.

Mycroft blinks at him, clearly speechless at the utter stupidity he regarded the question to be. "You…..moved things. Why….why….why would you move things?"

"Uh, sorry? I can move them back if you want."

"No. Sit so I can fix this. NOW Gregory!" Mycroft glares at the man until he backs off and sits in the chair heavily as he was told.

Lestrade watches as Mycroft spends the next ten minutes rearranging every flat surface in the room to the millimeter. It's so unlike Sherlock's characteristic clutter that he can't suppress a chuckle. Maybe this is why the detective is so messy in the first place.

"Does my disorder amuse you?" An edge of anger creeps into the elder Holmes' voice. He smoothes out his suit then levels another glare in Greg once he is seated across the man.

"No, I was just thinking. Why am I here anyway? I was busy –as you well know."

"Her lover was there. I assumed you would wish to avoid him so I had you picked up at that time. Honestly, the woman is terrible at concealing her affairs."

"That's all? Well thanks I guess. That's very…human of you Mr. Holmes," Lestrade says, shuffling his feet on the (probably very expensive he guesses) rug.

"I also wished to talk to you about a case you are about to label cold but it seems the matter has been resolved by my brother. A mistake on my part. To make up for the inconvenience allow me to take you to dinner." It's phrased as a question but to Greg it sounds more like a demand.

"Mr. Holmes I-"He begins in attempt to turn him down kindly.

"Mycroft. Please. May I call you Gregory?"

"Uh… Sure. You were already anyway. Like I was saying Mis- …Mycroft. I'm not dressed for anywhere you'd be interested in going. I doubt we'd even eat the same types of things."

"I suppose not but I insist." Mycroft persists, "You may choose the venue then."

"In that case I could really go for a pint and a burger. You can tell me about all this stuff lying around." Greg smiles, a challenge. It would be fun to see how the posh government official responds to something as mundane as this.

"I believe that can be arranged," Mycroft says slowly after a few thoughtful moments.

"By the way; next time you want a date you can just call." Before Mycroft can respond with a denial Greg pushes on. "You don't make mistakes and I don't have anything going towards cold this week. You've been planning this. It's endearing."

Mycroft simply blushes and sends a message for a car to be brought around.


End file.
